


Not-So-Secret Admirer

by PotionChemist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, First Dates, Flowers, Forbidden Love, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Oblivious Hermione Granger, POV Draco Malfoy, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Pining, Pink Magic, Post-War, Secret Admirer, Valentine's Day Fluff, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:09:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29422119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotionChemist/pseuds/PotionChemist
Summary: Draco has fancied Hermione for years. When she and Ron Weasley break up, the Slytherins encourage him to take his shot.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 24
Kudos: 240
Collections: Box of Chocolates





	Not-So-Secret Admirer

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Box_of_Chocolates](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Box_of_Chocolates) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Secret Admirer / Pink Magic / NSFW/SFW unspecified by artists
> 
> Find the artist, LilithShade, on [Tumblr](https://lilithshadefanfic.tumblr.com/)!

_GRANGER AND WEASLEY CALL IT QUITS!_

_Details of their very public breakup on page 5!_

Pansy slapped her copy of Witch Weekly down on the Slytherin table in the Great Hall.

"Did you know about this, Draco?"

Trying to be inconspicuous, Theo and Blaise leaned in closer. I, on the other hand, pulled back, rising from my seat and turning towards the door. Quicker than I'd ever imagined, Pansy grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

"Oh no," she began, "you're not avoiding this conversation anymore. She no longer has a boyfriend."

"It doesn't change anything," I hissed, pulling my arm away. "if you haven't noticed, she and I haven’t spoken since we returned."

"She would speak to you if you made the first move like I did," Theo stated. "If you apologise—"

"And exactly how many times did you tease her and watch her get tortured, Theo?" I asked.

He held his hands up. "I get what you're saying, mate, but she's not exactly the type to hold a grudge. She knows how you grew up."

My eyes roamed the Great Hall, desperate to make sure the subject of our conversation was absent.

With a sigh, I sat back down and cast a _Muffliato_.

"I know you all mean well and want me to be happy, but I can't just walk up to her and say, 'Hey Granger. I know you and Weasley just split. Fancy going on a date with a former Death Eater with daddy issues?'"

"I bet she'd welcome a friend right now, though," Pansy said, looking at me pointedly. "I know most of the Gryffindors are probably caught up in a custody battle."

For just a moment, I considered what she'd said. "A friend," I said, testing it out. "What makes you think that she'd want to be friends with me?"

"You're an excellent friend," Blaise replied, grinning. "We'll all give good references if she needs them before venturing on this new journey with you."

I rolled my eyes.

Pansy's hand settled on my shoulder. "Also, think about how much it'll irritate Weasley if he finds out you're hanging around with her."

"Granger wouldn't think that way," I said.

Laughing, Theo held up a finger. "Granger has set a teacher on fire, helped a suspected murderer escape this very castle, cursed a girl's face, thrown a woman to a herd of angry centaurs... Need I continue?" 

"How do you know all those things?"

He flushed a bit. "I might have heard about it from a mutual friend."

"The mysterious bloke you keep meeting up with and won't tell us about?" Blaise asked.

"Maybe," Theo answered, averting his eyes. "He might be a Gryffindor."

Pansy waved him off. "We don't care about your love life right now, Theo. We need to focus on Draco's." She tapped her long fingernails on the table top. "It's September now. I think you could be friends with her by Christmas and dating her by Valentine's Day."

"I think you've lost the plot, Parkinson," Blaise said with a grin. "He'll be friends with her by Halloween and picking out an engagement ring by Christmas with our help."

Groaning, I folded my arms on the table and then buried my face. They weren't going to let it go.

I was fucked.

* * *

A week later, I found myself in the library, hiding in the History of Magic section. Granger was sitting at a nearby table transcribing her notes from the day's classes into colour-coded notebooks.

Theo had told me that this was part of her daily routine, and that it would likely be the easiest time for me to approach her.

Regardless of his advice, I still couldn't work up the courage.

"Quit watching her like some kind of creep," Pansy said, sneaking up behind me. "Just go apologise and make a start on being friends."

"Friends," I repeated, hating the thought that I could get myself relegated to the friend zone. "I suppose you're right. I have to start somewhere."

She shoved me and I stumbled out into the open. Granger glanced up and then immediately turned away, making the miniscule amount of confidence I'd found falter.

With a deep, steadying breath, I counted to three and then stepped forwards.

"Granger? Could I have a few minutes of your time?" I asked, my voice shakier than normal.

Her head snapped up and she looked straight at me. It was clear she hadn't been sleeping well; there were dark circles under her eyes.

"I'm really quite busy at the moment, Malfoy. I haven't got the time to listen to whatever insults—"

"I wanted to apologise, Granger."

Her lips moved like she was going to speak, but no words came out. Without asking again, I sat down across from her, resting my arms on the table.

"I'm sorry," I began. My throat felt like it was going to close up, so I paused to clear it. "I've treated you horribly since the first day we met, and I'm sure I don't have to tell you why I acted the way I did."

"Oh, no, I think you should tell me. Explain why you felt it necessary to torment me for years," she said, arching an eyebrow.

Secretly, I loved that she wasn't making this easy for me. I'd always admired her fiery temper.

"I believe you met my father several times over the years," I stated. "He didn't really enjoy his perfectly pureblooded heir coming second to a girl who'd only learned magic was real at age eleven."

"Ah, yes, I have encountered him several times. You seem to have inherited both your looks and personality from him," she jabbed, obviously trying to offend me.

"You know, up until a year or so ago, I would've proudly agreed with you," I answered, choosing my words carefully. "But now I can't stand it when people believe I’m just a younger version of him."

Her teeth sank into her lower lip. After a moment, she gestured for me to continue.

"And, during fifth year, my aunt—"

"Don't say her name, Malfoy!" she interrupted, her eyes wild. "Please, I can't—"

At the thought of Bellatrix, she’d gone rigid. I’d never seen a reaction like that.

"I'm sorry for that, too," I said quietly. "I should've had the courage to stop it. If she'd have—If you'd—I wouldn't have been able to live with myself.” My hands started to shake, so I hid them behind my back. “I understand if you can’t ever forgive me, Granger. Really, I do, I just had to apologise.”

She nodded and I could see her chest heaving beneath her well-worn Gryffindor jumper.

“I’m glad you survived it all. Potter too,” I added, not willing to turn away until she’d responded somehow.

Sighing, she said, “Believe it or not, Malfoy, I’m glad you survived too. Especially since you were brave enough to come apologise to me tonight. I never thought I’d see the day.”

Surprised, I couldn’t stop my lips from curving upwards, nearly smiling, as I said goodbye and walked away.

* * *

After our initial interaction in the library, Granger had been different. A few times, she chose to sit beside me in class, but I never really knew what to say to her. We’d make small talk or discuss homework—the dullest of the dull conversations—and then it would all go flat.

Theo, Blaise, and Pansy kept encouraging me, saying that of course things would be a bit confusing and awkward at first. They didn’t want me to give up on trying to make friends with her, and they were all speaking to her on a regular basis.

It was beyond frustrating.

Whenever I’d thought of her in the past, I’d always imagined that we’d never run out of things to talk about and debate, but that didn’t seem like the case now.

On Halloween morning, I woke before the sun had even thought of rising, screams and cries of pain echoing through my mind. Most nights, the nightmares woke me and more often than not, I couldn’t force myself back to sleep. I stared at the canopy of my four-poster and counted backwards from one hundred. I summoned a house-elf from the kitchens and asked for firewhisky. When she denied me the alcohol and offered me a glass of warm milk instead, I decided to try it, even though it sounded like the most foul idea ever.

Nothing worked. My body was resolutely awake, and I couldn’t stand to be in the dungeons. Snake decor was no longer my favourite; it made me remember Nagini roaming the halls of the Manor, snapping at the heels of anyone who came within a few feet of her.

Summoning a hooded jumper and some Quidditch trousers, I dressed in the dark before grabbing my broomstick—still a Nimbus Two-Thousand-and-One—and making my way out of the dormitory. This year, I’d spent a fair few hours flying, and I’d been asked to rejoin the Slytherin team as Seeker. It had been the only bright spot in my life since returning to Hogwarts in September. Sure, it was nice to have my friends back and to be on somewhat speaking terms with Granger, but nothing made me feel the way flying did.

Checking my watch, I saw it was still way too early for me to be out of bed, but I shrugged it off, longing to forget the nightmare still replaying in my mind. I walked quietly through the corridors, heading for the side exit of the castle that led down to the Quidditch pitch.

As soon as I was outdoors, I mounted my broom and kicked off, flying towards the goalposts and stands like I was being chased by a dragon. The air was changing, growing colder as winter grew nearer, and I thought about Blaise’s ridiculous prediction. He’d thought that I’d be friends—good friends—with Granger by today and in a serious relationship with her by Christmas.

I scoffed to myself. We were barely even cordial acquaintances.

Deciding to forget it all for a little while, I started diving and rolling, swerving around and dodging invisible obstacles. I flew up towards the sky and looked down, trying to figure out a way I could spot the Snitch in these conditions. The sun was halfway over the horizon now, but the pitch was still quite dark, almost like it was sunset. 

As my eyes scanned the stands, I noticed someone sitting in the Gryffindor section, a big red blanket wrapped around their shoulders. It was odd that someone else was out at this hour, but I shrugged it off, continuing to fly.

Nearly an hour later, the sun had fully risen and the person in the stands was fully visible.

A mess of wild brown curls escaped a black knit hat, and I knew there was only one possibility. I flew forwards, stopping to hover in front of her.

“What are you doing out here, Granger?”

She smiled at me. “I couldn’t sleep so I came out for a run. Once I tired myself out, I decided to sit and watch the sunrise. I love the way the castle looks at this time of day.”

In all our previous conversations, she’d never been so animated.

I turned to glance at the castle, even though I would’ve preferred to look at her smile. “It is rather picturesque.”

“Oh, can’t you talk like a normal teenager, Malfoy?” she teased.

I smirked at her. “I wouldn’t be me if I talked like a commoner.”

Rolling her eyes, she replied, “I suppose that’s true.”

“I never imagined you’d like to run.”

“I don’t really,” she began, her voice hesitant. “But when I have nightmares or can’t sleep, it helps me to clear my mind. It also makes me hungry, and I know I haven’t been eating nearly enough.”

It all made sense—there were many students who were struggling, and most of them hadn’t faced the kinds of things that she had.

That I had.

“I can relate, you know, if you ever wanted to talk,” I offered, trying to build a bit more trust between us. “I know I was on the other side, but—”

“That doesn’t matter. I’m sure you saw things that I can’t even imagine.”

Inappropriately, I laughed and immediately covered my mouth. “Sorry.”

Granger smiled again. “It’s fine. Dark humour is probably necessary in our case.”

“So, you said you were hungry...” 

When I didn’t continue, she looked at me questioningly. “I did.”

“Would you want to—We could—Nevermind.”

As I started to fly away, she stopped me. “What, Draco?”

“We could get breakfast. If you wanted to.”

“I was going to head to the Great Hall on my own, but—”

“You can. You can absolutely say no to my invitation,” I interrupted, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. “I just thought if we were both going...”

She stood up and said, “I’d love to. I know we’ve been talking, but things have felt so strained. I wasn’t sure if maybe you were only talking to me because you felt like you had to.”

I swung my leg over my broom and landed on the stands beside her. “Why would I have to?”

“To show you’ve changed. You know, because you wouldn’t have spoken to a Muggleborn before.”

My stomach twisted. I knew I should open up to her, but it was hard.

“I’d never do that to you, Granger,” I stated, making sure I spoke clearly. “If that was all it was about, I would’ve chosen someone else. There’s too much history between us for me to be disingenuous.”

Nodding, she pulled her hat off and the static made her hair stand on end.

“Fuck!” she said, surprising me. “Ugh, I didn’t think.”

With a laugh, I cast a charm to dispel the static without a shock. Her hair settled into place and she tucked it behind her ears.

Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were dark when she looked up at me. “Thank you, Draco.”

“Anytime, Hermione.”

* * *

Throughout November and early December, Granger and I started to have the friendship Blaise had predicted. More than once, we both ended up on the Quidditch pitch before the sun rose. On those occasions, we'd have breakfast together afterwards.

We didn't have deep discussions about the war or really talk about our personal lives much, but we shared silence comfortably and debated lessons and theory. It was so different from any other friendship I'd ever had.

After an hour of studying Arithmancy, I let out a sigh of frustration and startled Theo.

"What's your problem, Draco?" he asked, pressing a finger to the page of his book to hold his place.

"I'm lost on this bloody subject," I groaned. "What am I ever going to need Arithmancy for?"

"You should ask Hermione. I bet she could give you a list," he quipped in response. "She loves Arithmancy. It's one of her favourite subjects."

I'd already known that, but it didn't make me hate the numbers symbols strewn across my parchment any less.

Pansy looked up from her sketch pad. "You should ask her to tutor you. I bet she'd love teaching you bits and pieces of everything."

"Oh, she definitely would," Theo said, smirking. "Can you imagine how smug she'd be?"

"I guess I could ask a friend for help," I mused aloud. "It wouldn't be strange now that we've spoken."

Looking back down at his book, Theo resumed reading and I saw Pansy's quill scratching at whatever she'd decided to draw tonight.

Unlike the first time I'd ventured to the library to see Granger, I felt confident. I planned to march right up to her and sit down like it was something I did every single day.

But, when I arrived, she wasn't at her usual table.

I stood there like an idiot, genuinely perplexed that she wasn't in the library. As I thought about where she would be, I chewed my cheek. Most nights, she was there in that very spot.

"Malfoy, are you looking for Hermione?"

Turning, I saw Longbottom sitting with Hannah Abbott.

"Yeah, do you know where she is tonight?"

He swallowed. "Ron turned up just after dinner. He got permission from the headmistress to take Hermione to Hogsmeade for the night."

"What?" I asked, unable to hide my shock. "For the whole night?"

"Sounded like," Longbottom replied. "He told her to bring a bag."

"And she did?"

"Yeah, she did. He apologised to her in front of everyone and said that he'd made a real big mistake—"

"Thanks, Longbottom," I said, interrupting him. I didn't want to hear anything else about their reconciliation. It made sense, after all. They had been friends for years.

"I wanted to punch his face," he added, shrugging. "The way he spoke to her over the summer was bang out of line, grief or not."

He'd piqued my curiosity, but I didn't ask what he was talking about. I gave him a quick wave and headed for the doors, ready to slink back down to the dungeons and indulge in some firewhisky.

* * *

"Are we in an argument that I don't know about?" Granger whispered, sinking into the seat beside me in Ancient Runes.

Closing my eyes, I counted to five. It had been six days since she'd spent the night with Weasley and I'd been avoiding her all week.

"No," I replied, glancing down at my fingernails and examining them.

"That's all you're going to say? No?"

I shrugged. "I figured you wouldn't want to be seen with me anymore."

"What?!" she said. "Why would you think that?"

Before I could answer, class began and she slumped down in her seat. I knew she'd been thinking every interaction we'd had in the past few weeks over and trying to figure out what she'd done wrong. At first, I was happy that she'd been confused, but then I glanced over and saw the tears collecting along her lash line.

Fuck. I was being a dick.

I pulled her blank note-taking parchment towards my side of our table. Even though nearly twenty minutes had already passed, she hadn't written a single word.

_I'm sorry. I should've been straight with you. I didn't think you'd want to be seen with me if you and Weasley were back together._

When I slid the parchment back to her, she read it quickly, her eyes widening. She shook her head and looked at me pleadingly for just a moment before grabbing her quill.

Her reply was simple: _Who told you about Ron?_

Chewing my cheek, I wrote: _Does it really matter?_

_Why do you even care if we’re back together?_ she countered.

_He won't like us being friends,_ I wrote reluctantly. _I like spending time with you._

Granger looked over at me, her teeth sinking into her lower lip like her response would burst forward if she didn't contain it.

Her expression made my heart speed up, though I wasn’t sure why. She had something she wanted to tell me—that much was clear—but it didn’t mean that it would be something good. Maybe she would say that she and Weasley had worked everything out and they were planning on getting married in the spring, popping out a litter of babies shortly thereafter.

Stifling a groan of frustration, she started furiously scribbling on the parchment.

_If you’d have talked to me at all this week, then you’d know that I didn’t stay in Hogsmeade on Friday night. I went to dinner with Ron and told him that I wasn’t interested in—_

“Ms Granger, are you paying attention?” Professor Babbling said, eyeing the parchment between us.

Her cheeks flushed. “Actually, no. May I be excused? I’m having a rather bad day.”

The professor blinked in surprise, unaccustomed to Hermione being anything but a model student. "Of course, Ms Granger. Do you need someone to accompany you to the Hospital Wing?"

For a moment, it looked like she was going to tell the professor that she was fine and just wanted to leave, but then she put on a weary expression.

"That would be wonderful, Professor Babbling. I'm just exhausted and need to lie down," she said. "If someone could just carry my bag—"

"I'll do it," I offered, catching on and starting to pack up both of our things. "I'll see to it that she makes it back to Gryffindor Tower after a stop at the Hospital Wing for some Sleeping Draught."

Professor Babbling looked to Granger. "Are you okay with Mr Malfoy escorting you?"

There was genuine concern in the professor's voice and I couldn't fault her for it; I'd earned my bad reputation.

"Of course I am," Granger replied, surprising more than one person in the lesson. She met my eyes. "Thank you for offering, Draco."

Her public acceptance of me—of the way she hadn't hesitated—would be the talk of the school by dinnertime.

Rather than dwelling on that, I offered her my arm. When she took it, shockwaves rolled through the classroom. All eyes were on us, Malfoy and Granger, the unlikely pair.

Even as the whispers started, she held onto my arm and it reminded me of the way she'd stuck by Potter through the Tri-Wizard Tournament and the start of fifth year when he'd been a social pariah.

I didn't know if she was doing this because she pitied me or if it was because she genuinely wanted to be my friend, but I didn't care either way. She was openly spending time with me, regardless of what anyone thought.

As soon as we were a few corridors away from the Ancient Runes classroom, Granger started pulling me along, leading the way. She directed me into an abandoned classroom, one that looked like he hadn't been used in years.

"You're an idiot," she stated, folding her arms over her chest. "Why didn't you just ask me about Ron?"

"We don't talk about our personal lives all that much, if you didn't notice."

She groaned and rubbed her hands over her face. "Only because you never really seem to want to talk about anything! I was trying to be patient and not push you. You've always been a bit reserved."

Once again, I was at a loss for words, proving her point.

"So, go ahead. Ask me."

"Ask you what?" I replied stupidly.

"Ask me what happened with Ron," she began. "And then I'll ask you something in return."

"Can't you just tell me what happened?" 

Granger rolled her eyes. "We went to Hogsmeade. He brought me to the Hog's Head—"

"Wait. He took you to that dingy pub for a reconciliation?" I interrupted, appalled.

"Aberforth is quite nice, but it wouldn't be my first choice for what was supposed to be a romantic evening out, either," she responded. "What I don’t understand is why it matters to you if I’m with Ron or not.”

I sighed. “Listen, it’s no secret that our past is complicated, and I’m so happy that you’re willing to let things go and move on, but Weasley isn’t that way. He’ll hold the war and everything before it over my head for the rest of our lives.”

“But that doesn’t mean I’d stop talking to you,” she replied, her gorgeous face looking genuinely confused. “Even if I had gotten back together with Ron, I wouldn’t stop being friends with you.”

“Even if you were fighting over it all the time?” I asked pointedly. “Or if he gave you an ultimatum?”

“I don’t let anyone dictate my relationships,” she said, her tone adamant. “I’d give _him_ an ultimatum.”

“We haven’t been on speaking terms for long,” I pointed out, “and you’ve been friends with Potter and Weasley since we were in first year. I’d never expect you to choose me over either of them.”

She shrugged. “I shouldn’t have to choose. I can be their friend and yours.”

_Mine._

At the thought of her being mine, even though I knew she didn’t mean it exactly that way, I dropped my guard a bit. “I know I’m reserved, but I’m willing to talk about whatever you’d like to.”

“Do you want to go outside? Walk around the grounds?” she asked.

“It’s December. Not the best weather for it.”

“We have magic,” she stated. “Weather doesn’t matter. There are waterproofing and warming charms. I always feel calmer outside, and I want to talk about some of the things we’ve been avoiding.”

Even though a conversation about the past filled me with dread, I nodded in agreement. 

“Okay, Granger. Lead the way.”

* * *

_RONALD WEASLEY DATING BURKE HEIRESS?_

The headline was splashed across the front of the _Prophet_ , a photo of the ginger git right below. A blonde girl—Amelia Burke—was holding his hand and looking at him with little hearts in her eyes. 

Disgusting. 

As I continued reading, I saw a sentence that made my blood boil. 

_Quite an upgrade from the bookish Hermione Granger._

Who could be considered an upgrade from Hermione, the golden heroine of the wizarding world?

I glanced over at the Gryffindor table just in the nick of time to see her throw the paper down on the table and stand up. She flung her bookbag over one shoulder and turned, noticing my attention.

She looked away and made a hasty retreat into the entrance hall. Pansy slapped my arm and hissed, “Go talk to her! She needs someone!”

While we’d cleared the air between us before Christmas, I still wasn’t sure I was the right person for this job. She was really upset and not even a single Gryffindor had gone after her. Perhaps she’d told them she wanted to be alone—I didn’t want to intrude.

“This is your chance,” she added. “Go tell her she’s gorgeous and there’s no one else you’d rather take out!”

It was true, but I was still nervous. I didn’t want to ruin the friendship we’d managed to build over the past few months. 

Knowing Pansy wouldn’t leave it there, I stood and walked out, deducing that she’d be heading for the grounds, regardless of the weather. 

As soon as I swung the front doors open, I saw a familiar black knit hat bobbing along, struggling to contain the curls beneath it. 

“Granger,” I called, making her pause. “Wait for me.”

In a dozen long strides, I was at her side. She looked up at me tentatively, and I saw a sheen of tears coating her cheeks.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, wiping at her face with her mittened hands. “I’m fine.”

“I can see that,” I replied. “You’re definitely not upset at all.”

“Fine, so I’m a shit liar.”

Grinning, I said, “Let’s take a walk and do that talking thing you’re so fond of. I’ll ask the questions this time.” Once she’d taken a few steps, I ripped the plaster off. “Why are you upset over Weasley?”

“I’m not,” she began. “I don’t care that Ron went out with some daft bimbo who has more Galleons than brain cells. I’m upset that everyone in my house looked at me with pity—”

“I don’t think that’s true. I’m sure it was concern, not pity,” I interrupted. “They’re your friends, Granger. They care about you and wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

She shrugged. “It didn’t feel that way.”

“Of course not. You were at least a little upset.” As we talked, we continued to walk in the direction of the Quidditch pitch. “So what bothered you?”

“Other than the pity, it’s mainly just that Ron has already moved on. He tried to make up with me again at Christmas,” she answered, her eyes fixated on the frozen ground in front of us. “If he really was serious, why is he already out with another witch?”

“To make you jealous,” I stated. “Is it working?”

“I’m more annoyed than jealous. Honestly, it just makes me want to give him a dose of his own medicine, you know? Out of the two of us, he’s far more likely to be the jealous one.”

“I can see that."

“He thought that Harry and I were secretly in a relationship. I mean, how ridiculous is that? He lived with us in that tent. We wouldn’t have been able to keep things under wraps all that long,” she rambled. “There was no bloody privacy to be had!”

"Of course not."

As she spoke, she walked faster and faster. "Everyone knows that Harry and I have been only friends since the beginning. I've never looked at him in a boyfriend sort of way. He's more like a brother to me."

"I know that, Granger. There was never any sexual tension between you and Potter."

"Thank Merlin someone gets it," she huffed. "I've been dealing with people telling me that guys and girls can't be just friends for years now. But girls drive me absolutely mad most of the time."

"Right. You're definitely not like the other witches." She narrowed her eyes at me, prompting me to quickly add, "In a good way."

"And it's not as if I haven't been asked out since Ron and I broke up. I’ve just never accepted. I'm not undesirable."

"Definitely not," I replied. "You're very desirable."

As soon as the words left my lips, I felt the blush rising to my cheeks.

"You don't have to agree with everything I say, Draco," she laughed. "I know it seemed like I was upset but really I'm fine. The way he was flaunting how he's moved on is a bit annoying, but I'll get over it. Next time someone asks me out, I'll say yes if I want to and not worry about his feelings or the repercussions of anything Rita writes."

I cleared my throat and grabbed her arm, halting her before she could walk up the stairs to the Gryffindor stands. "We could go out."

"What?" she asked. 

A herd of hippogriffs flapped their wings in my stomach. "Let me take you out. We can arrange to go anywhere you'd like."

"When?"

"Whenever you have the time and want to," I replied, even though I felt like I might vomit. "It's not as if my social calendar is overflowing."

She didn't say anything and I wanted to hurl a hex at myself. It had been a stupid idea to ask her out. 

"Or not," I said quickly. "It's like breakfast the first time. You can absolutely say no to me."

"No!" she exclaimed, and I started to pull away. "Shit! No, I didn't mean no, I won't go out with you. I meant—no, I don't want to say no."

"You're saying it an awful lot, Granger."

She grabbed my hand. "I was just surprised, Draco. I'd love to go out with you."

Every bit of strain I'd been feeling quickly dissipated, leaving relief in its wake. I looked down into her dark eyes. "What about Saturday? After my match?"

"That sounds perfect," she replied quietly. "Only a couple of days away."

I nodded, never breaking eye contact. There was something between us—something palpable, tangible, but fragile. I was afraid to say the wrong thing and break it.

"Will you come to the match before? I know we're not playing Gryffindor, but it would—"

She pressed a finger to my lips. "Of course I will. I'll even watch you play."

"No book?" I teased.

"No book," Granger confirmed. "I'll be sitting with Ginny, though."

"That's fine, as long as you wear one green thing."

Laughing, she said, "I'll figure something out."

* * *

As I circled the pitch, warming up, my eyes locked on the Gryffindor stands. I saw Ginny Weasley in the front row, bundled up and watching closely. There was an empty seat beside her, and I wondered where Granger had gotten to. The match would be starting in less than five minutes.

I knew I shouldn't care—I should be focused, looking out for professional scouts—but I did. I wanted her to be there, win or lose.

Just as Madam Hooch called us all to the centre, a flash of emerald caught my eye in a sea of red and gold. I positioned myself so I'd be facing the Gryffindor stands when the balls were released. She was adorable in a black peacoat and a silver and emerald scarf, an emerald hat on her head and silver-grey mittens on her hands.

She'd come. 

She didn't have a bag or a book, and she looked right at me and beamed.

* * *

"You flew so well!" she said after the game, nearly giddy.

I smirked at her. "Well, I had incentive to end the game quickly. I've got a date tonight."

"Oh? Is that so? With who?"

"You know, I can't recall her name," I joked, looking around at all the students behind her. "She's really quite pretty, though."

"Well, that sounds promising. I bet she has to go back to the castle to get ready," Granger said. "If she knows Draco Malfoy at all, she probably thinks he'll be taking her to a place where she needs to wear a dress."

Shaking my head, I replied, "No dresses necessary."

She arched an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"I'm taking her to the Hog's Head. It comes highly recommended—"

Scoffing, she stepped around me and started walking up the path to the castle. I thought I'd blown it but then she turned and asked, "Were you serious?"

I shook my head. "Of course, but you don't need to wear a dress, Granger. This is going to be a bit more relaxed. Less pressure."

"Okay. What are you wearing?"

"Have you ever seen me in less than a button down and black trousers?"

"Fair point. Nice jumper and black trousers okay?" she asked with a smile.

"Sounds perfect. See you in an hour or so?" 

She nodded and waved me off. I headed for showers.

* * *

When we arrived at the small cafe in Hogsmeade, I opened the door for Granger and led her to the private table I'd arranged in the back of the restaurant. Before she had the chance to protest, I took her coat and pulled her chair out.

"Thank you," she replied, looking at me like I was some sort of strange creature. 

I conjured a coat rack and tucked it into the corner behind our table. "Want me to take your scarf?" I asked, eyeing the emerald and silver wound meticulously around her neck. 

She shook her head. "No. I like it."

"I do too," I admitted, shrugging off my cloak. 

Granger's eyes roamed over me, taking in my light grey shirt and the tie I'd put on. 

"I feel underdressed," she said with a nervous smile. "You look so..."

"So...?" I prompted.

"Perfect. There's no other way to say it. You're dressed perfectly for a date."

"And you aren't?" I asked, genuinely confused. Her trousers were snug in all the right ways, and her jumper had a deep v-neckline that showed just a hint of cleavage. 

"Aren't you used to girls like Pansy who come out of the womb wearing dresses and short skirts?"

Snorting a laugh, I replied, "I am, but I think you look perfect, too."

She blushed and looked down at her lap. Her hands were folded together, twisting.

_Was she as nervous as I was?_

"Thank you," she said quietly. "I... This is the first date I've been on with anyone besides Ron outside of the castle."

"What about Krum?" I blurted.

"I was fifteen, Draco. Do you think we went on many outings?"

"He asked you to visit him in Bulgaria," I pointed out, remembering Skeeter's article. "You could've gone."

"I never made it there," Granger responded, biting her lip. "Voldemort's return sort of put a damper on my travel plans."

Shit. I'd wanted to make it through the night without talking about the war in any capacity.

"Oh, well, I—"

"It's fine. Don't apologise. It's not like you were the one to help resurrect him," she said, trying to lighten the mood.

The waitress walked up to our table and smiled, snapping the tension that had started to form between us. "Good evening. Can I get you something to drink?"

We both ordered tea and looked at our menus guiltily.

"Have you been here before?" 

I shook my head. "No, but Theo recommended it. Apparently they don't mind serving those of us who aren't very popular these days."

As she opened her menu, she said, "Have you had problems with that?"

"Honestly, I haven't really tried to go anywhere," I admitted. "But, right after the war, some people were very rude to Theo because of who his father was."

"I didn't realise."

"I wouldn't expect you to," I responded. "I'm sure I'm the only pureblood who was on the wrong side that you associate with, really."

"I'm starting to be friends with Pansy and Theo, too."

As she looked over the menu, I could tell she was frowning, and I knew I had to get this date back on track. 

"So, have you seen Potter lately?" I asked, figuring her best friend was safe territory.

"I saw him at Christmas at the Burrow," Granger replied, glancing up at me. "Apparently he's seeing someone now. Ginny was extremely put out, but I've been telling her for years that Harry favours blokes."

If I'd taken a sip of my drink, I would've spat it in her face.

She laughed. "He's pretty open about it now. That's how I got to know Theo."

"Potter? That's who Theo's been meeting?" I asked, my jaw dropping.

"Oops," she replied, grimacing. "I figured you knew."

After that, the tension between us dissipated. I learned a lot about what Theo had been getting up to over the summer while I had ignored everyone and everything around me. Talking about our friends was easier than trying to come up with appropriate topics of conversation, and I loved the way she lit up when she talked about Potter and Theo. 

She genuinely thought that the son of a Death Eater was good for her friend, the saviour of the wizarding world.

By the end of the meal, I felt like the date had gone well.

When she stood, I helped her into her coat, my hands lingering on her shoulders for a few seconds too long. She watched me button my cloak, her eyes fixating on my fingers, and I wondered what she was thinking.

I held my hand out and she laced her fingers between mine. 

"I don't really want to go back to the castle yet," I said as we walked towards the door. "Do you want to walk around the village a bit? I know the sights won't be new, but—"

"I'd love to. You know I like walking and talking," she replied, squeezing my hand. "It's easier for me to say what's on my mind when I'm moving around."

The streets of Hogsmeade were virtually deserted. It was cold and getting late, and students were likely at the castle, partaking in Quidditch Saturday festivities. I knew there was a party going on in the dungeons, and I didn't want to go back to the noise and catcalls I'd be subjected to.

"There's something I've been meaning to ask you," Granger began, and I squeezed her hand, signalling for her to continue. "How is your mother?"

My jaw tightened. No one ever asked me about my parents, and I preferred it that way.

"She's fine. She's still trying to find a way to get my father out of Azkaban," I replied honestly. "She thinks that if she can find just one more thing that could help them convict someone else, he'll somehow be exonerated."

Granger must have read my facial expression, the tightness in my jaw. 

"You don't think he should be," she stated, interpreting everything correctly as usual.

I shrugged. "He chose that life for himself years ago. He lied and committed crimes for a maniac. I have no sympathy for him."

"You're angry with him."

"Of course I am," I said, my voice more harsh than I'd intended it to be. "He's the reason I was initiated into the Death Eaters before I had a chance to choose my own path."

Her thumb stroked over the back of my hand, trying to calm me, but it didn't work.

"If my father hadn't ended up in Azkaban after the Department of Mysteries, I would've been free to go about my life like all the other purebloods. But, since he was in charge of a mission that went awry and Bellatrix was involved too, I was..." I made air quotes with my free hand. "Chosen."

"I'm sorry. This was a bad topic."

I waved her off. "No worries, Granger. I just don't understand why my mother won't let it all go. He's killed people and deserves to be where he is right now."

"I don't disagree, but if your mother is upset about it, I get it. He's her husband. They've been married for a long time at this point."

"Obviously, but really, she knows the things he's done."

We walked along in silence, the air heavy between us.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, she turned the conversation to Quidditch.

"You were pretty brilliant in the match today."

"Thanks," I said with a smirk. "What was your favourite part?"

"When you caught the snitch," she said, but then paused in thought. "Actually, I loved watching you fly more than anything. You were much better than the Hufflepuff Seeker."

"Well, that's a low bar," I laughed. "The only decent Seeker Hufflepuff's ever had was Cedric Diggory."

Granger's face scrunched up. "Bad joke."

"It wasn't a joke. I was being serious. He was a brilliant Seeker."

"Sorry," she said, turning her head to look directly at me. "When did you start flying?"

"When I was about eight, my mother finally let me on a proper broomstick," I told her. "But before then, I would try to fly on a toy broomstick every day."

"That's really adorable," she replied with a smile. "I can see you flying around your own miniature Quidditch pitch and ordering house-elves around."

"Oh, Granger, I didn't need house-elves for that. I had Crabbe and Goyle, and also Theo whenever his father let him leave Nott Manor."

I was embarrassed to admit that I used to order my friends around, but I knew I needed to be honest with her.

She laughed at me but I didn't mind. I just focused on the way her fingers were laced through mine. I could feel her magic tingling against my palm, and it was better than I had ever imagined.

"And what else?" she added. "Did your mother watch you and cheer you on?"

"Of course she did. She's always been my biggest fan."

"I was joking when I said miniature Quidditch pitch. Did you actually have one?" 

"I might have," I admitted sheepishly. "I thought it was completely normal until I got to Hogwarts."

We stopped beside the entrance to the road that led to the castle and she turned to face me. Tentatively, I lifted my free hand to her face to cup her cheek. "You know, I've tried to think about what you were like when you were younger, but it's hard. I don't know what Muggles like."

Granger blushed. "Honestly, I was very similar to the way I am now. I liked books and spent time with my friends, who were mostly boys because I didn't like dressing up for imaginary tea parties."

"You never wanted to be a princess?" 

She shook her head. "Not particularly. None of them seem like they know what's really going on around them. They’re always so concerned with finding a prince. That was never me."

"And now?" I asked, my voice shaking. "What if I kissed you? Would it feel like—"

Granger didn't wait. She surged forward and kissed me, her lips pressing against mine and waiting for me to reciprocate. After a beat, I did, my tongue teasing her mouth until she opened for me. It was indescribable; unlike anything I'd ever felt before, and I pulled her body flush against mine.

When we'd agreed to this date, I hadn't been expecting to kiss her, and now she was in my arms, and I felt like I couldn't get enough of her.

I pulled back first, surprising myself, and she looked up at me with stars in her eyes.

And then a fucking flash popped, a camera capturing us kissing in the middle of Hogsmeade. Before I could react, the arsehole Apparated away.

Without thinking, I looked down at Granger and said, "Well, I guess we've done enough to make Weasley jealous."

Her eyes, so full of stars and fire just a moment before, frosted over. I expected her to lash out and tell me I was being a fool, but she didn't. Instead, she simply turned away. I'd wanted to kiss her again, but she seemed uninterested.

"I suppose we have," she murmured. "We should probably get back to the castle."

I swallowed hard. "What?"

"I mean, we're out past curfew already, and apparently we've accomplished our mission."

"What?" I asked again, not understanding.

"To make Ron jealous," she clarified. "Or get photographed with me for the paper. I don't know which it was, but both were accomplished at once."

"Granger—Hermione—stop." I tried to hold onto her, but she pulled away. "What are you talking about?"

"We're going to be snogging on the front page of some publication," she said, her eyes filling with tears. "Did you tell them we were going to be here?"

"Of course not!" I said, and my voice had risen with panic.

"Do you know why I broke up with Ron?"

My stomach twisted. "I didn't read the article—"

"He berated me for not wanting to go out in public after the war ended," she said, her tears starting to roll down her cheeks. "He wanted me to dress in a way that would draw more attention and flaunt myself all over Britain. I told him I just wanted a nice, quiet life." Wiping her eyes, she continued. "But he wanted the spotlight, and now he's getting it with Amelia Burke."

"Granger, I—"

"No!" she interrupted. "I don't want to be photographed or make Ron jealous."

"It was a joke—"

"I need to go," Granger stated. "I was having a lovely time, but I just—I can't. I need someone who doesn't want me to bring them into the spotlight. I need someone who genuinely likes me for me, the girl who doesn't want attention from everyone in the wizarding world."

"I want that, Granger! I do like you. I don’t want the attention—"

She shook her head again. "I don't think that's true, Draco. I should've known that you'd still want all eyes on you. That's how you've always been."

"Granger, please listen—"

With a pop of Apparition, she vanished.

* * *

The next morning, I didn't leave the dungeons. 

Pansy and Theo had jumped on my bed first thing, trying to get details out of me, and I'd hexed them both. When Blaise came over, he'd taken a different approach, but I couldn't tell him.

I couldn't tell him that a poorly-timed joke had ruined the whole evening.

After I'd turned him away, everyone left me alone for a few hours, knowing that if I wouldn't talk to Blaise, I wouldn't talk to anyone at all. Honestly, I never wanted to leave the dungeons again. I knew the mistake with Hermione would be easily rectified, but how could I subject her to the stares and photographs that would undoubtedly follow us everywhere?

I was Draco Malfoy, and she was Hermione Granger. No matter where we went, we'd cause a frenzy. Everyone would want to know how we got together or what our future plans were, and we'd never know a moment's peace.

And now, after everything, she didn't believe that I had genuine interest in her. She thought that I wanted a piece of her—her fame—and that wasn't the case at all. I wanted every part of her. She made me feel a way that no one else ever had, and I didn't know how to explain it to her properly.

I was fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.

I'd kissed her and lost her within the span of a few seconds, and I didn't know how to cope.

Around lunchtime, Pansy came into the dormitory again, carrying a tray of food. 

"You need to eat something, Draco. You can't go back to the walking skeleton you were in sixth year."

I rolled over, facing the wall instead of my friend. 

"Oh, enough is enough. Just tell me what happened and we'll figure out how to fix it before next weekend for Valentine's Day."

I groaned at the thought of flowers and chocolates and jewelry.

"What happened with Hermione?" she asked. "I know you wouldn't be hiding in here if your date had gone well."

Again, I stayed mute. 

Pansy's hand landed on my bare shoulder and she pulled me onto my back. Looking down at me with her dark blue eyes, she shook her head. "You sure know how to take brooding and self-loathing to a whole new level."

"Fuck off, Parkinson," I groaned, rubbing my palms over my face. "Obviously I fucked it all up. What else do you need to know?"

"How, though? I can't help you fix it if I don't know what you did," she replied, and she sounded genuinely concerned. "I know it wasn't your manners."

"Did you know why she and Weasel King broke up?" 

She nodded. "She didn't want to go out into London anymore. They were never left alone, and he wanted her to draw all the attention."

"Great, well, that makes one of us. I had no idea," I told her. "And then someone snapped a photo of us, and I made a joke about how we'd make Weasley jealous when he saw it in the paper."

"How did you not know, Draco?"

Sighing, I said, "I purposely set out to not read that article. I didn't want to know. Hell, I didn't even want to acknowledge that she was single."

"This isn't the worst thing you ever could've done. I'm sure she's thinking she overreacted—"

"Even if that's the case," I interrupted, "she doesn't want to be in the spotlight, and you know that people will write about us no matter what. Whether we go out in public or become total recluses, everyone will want to know our story."

Pansy's hand rubbed over my shoulders, massaging. "That's true, but are you really willing to just give up?"

"If it means she'll be happy—"

"She's been asked out by nearly everyone in seventh or eighth year, Draco. She's said no to every bloke but you," she answered. "Do you think she would've agreed to a date if she wasn't genuinely interested in you?"

Again, I sighed.

"Talk to her," she stated. "Explain that it was just a joke, and then have the discussion about the press because you're right—they'll never stop. Not when it comes to the two of you."

I knew she was right, but I didn't give her the satisfaction of admitting it.

Instead, I sat up and reached for the glass of water on the tray. She'd set it on my nightstand, and I could see that she'd made sure all of my favourites were included.

"Good. Drink, eat, and then grow the fuck up and talk to her. Don't let a silly little miscommunication ruin everything," she said, running her fingers through my hair. "But you should actually take a shower first."

I laughed. 

"Get out, Pansy. This really isn't any of your business."

She smirked. "When has that ever mattered to me?"

* * *

Granger was absent from classes all day on Monday.

With each passing hour, I grew more and more concerned. She hadn't turned up for mealtimes either.

When she didn't appear at dinner, I swallowed my pride and walked over to the Gryffindor table, looking directly at Longbottom. He narrowed his eyes at me. 

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

I bit the inside of my cheek, tamping down a nasty retort. "Where is she?"

"She doesn't want to see you," Ginny Weasley chimed in. "And, honestly, I can't blame her. I can't believe you were happy to be photographed—"

"I wasn't!" I interrupted. "I swear, I hate it as much as she did, but I wanted to make light of it. If she and I are together—"

"You won't be," Ginny stated. "She doesn't need a _prince_ in her life."

"I'm well aware." 

Turning, I walked away, coming up with a new strategy inside my head.

* * *

On Tuesday, she reappeared, looking tired and forlorn.

Over breakfast in the Great Hall, three owls delivered her separate bouquets of exotic flowers, each more extravagant than the last. I hadn't sent a specific card with any of them; they were all signed 'Your Secret Admirer'.

More than likely, she knew they were from me, but I didn't approach her. I wanted her to come to me when she was ready. If I looked like I wanted attention again, she might assume that I really was the same spoiled git I'd once been. I figured she'd understand that the flowers were an apology.

But she didn't even spare me a glance.

On Wednesday, large boxes of gold-wrapped chocolates landed on the Gryffindor table, but she'd largely ignored them after reading the small card that had been on the box. Again, I'd only signed it 'Your Secret Admirer'. She rolled her eyes and left the table, her eyes fixed on the doors.

It was infuriating.

Pansy glanced over at me and said, "You're doing this all wrong. You know that, right? She doesn't want extravagant 'I'm sorry' gifts. She's not that kind of girl."

"Well, what do you think I should do?" I groaned. "This is all I know!"

"Write to her," Theo suggested. "Granger loves to read. Write her a love letter. Tell her you've wanted to be with her for awhile."

I thought for a moment. It made sense. 

"Do you really think she'll talk to me if I do that?"

"Better that than fucking flowers," Blaise said, rolling his eyes. 

* * *

By Friday morning, I'd finally composed something I wanted to send to her. I was too chicken to do it over breakfast; everyone was watching her carefully. I'd drawn more attention to her without even meaning to, and I was sure she was furious about that.

Over the past week, she'd ensured that she always had another Gryffindor sitting beside her in classes and they moved through the hallways in packs. It made it impossible to get her alone. 

However, in the evenings, she was still taking refuge in the library. I didn't want to bother her, so when I arrived at 8pm, I sat in the hallway outside the door, Disillusioned. Every half hour or so, I took a shot of firewhisky for courage. 

By eleven, I was pissed.

She walked out, her curls in a ponytail that swished behind her and her bag slung over her shoulder. She was still wearing her uniform and looked as perfect as she had that morning, though I'd grown more and more disheveled. My tie hung loose and I was fairly certain I'd undone some buttons on my shirt.

Stupidly, I levitated the envelope containing the note in front of her. She rolled her eyes and reached for it, and I waited with bated breath. As she read my words, one hand went to her face, her fingers holding her chin. It looked like she might have started to smile, but I couldn't be sure. I rose from the floor and stood in front of her, waiting for a reaction that never came. Impatient, I held my wand above her head and started casting some pink magic that Pansy had taught me years ago. Bright, incorporeal flower petals burst out of my wand and fluttered around us.

Granger laughed and said, "Where are you? I've been waiting for you to find me all week. I couldn't wait in the library anymore."

I felt a fluttering in my stomach again and willed the charm away.

Again, she laughed, her eyes taking in my appearance. "Are you drunk, Draco?"

"A bit," I admitted. "This week has not been the best."

"I'm sorry, I know I overreacted—"

I cut her off with a kiss, and she leaned into me, causing me to stumble backwards.

"For the love of Merlin, Malfoy," she chuckled, shaking her head as she helped me balance. "Did you really need to get drunk to speak to me and give me this lovely letter?"

I nodded. "I'm sorry too. I don't know why I made a joke like that."

"You didn't know," Granger said with a shrug. "Or at least that's what you wrote in the letter."

"I didn't. I swear to you, Hermione, I didn't know."

"I believe you now. I was just scared. And you were right — Ron was furious."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course he was."

"Did you mean it?" she asked.

"What?"

Holding the letter out, she said, "Everything in this letter. You've really fancied me for more than just a few weeks?"

"Granger, I've fancied you since you the first time I ever smelled Amortentia," I admitted. "It smelled like green apple sugar quills and fresh snow and the Restricted Section of the library."

"I'm not sure that's a compliment."

Laughing, I leaned in and kissed her again. 

"Trust me, it is." 

She took my hand. “Let me walk you back to the dungeons. You’re in no state to get there safely—”

“But I want to spend time with you,” I said, petulantly refusing to move. “You haven’t spoken to me all week, and all I could think about was how to get you to kiss me again.”

Smiling, she replied, “We can spend the whole weekend together. You’re drunk.”

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a vial and showed it to her. “I can fix that right now.”

“Sober-Up?”

I nodded, and she reached for the vial. Letting go of my hand, she opened it for me and held it to my lips. 

“Drink, Draco. Then we’ll talk.”

A few seconds later, my head was clear and I looked down at myself.

“Well, this is a bit… unique.” I ran my hand through my hair and looked down at her. “Sorry I got drunk, half undressed, and then confessed my long-running feelings for you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Granger said. “Shall we head out to the Quidditch pitch?”

I nodded, quickly rebuttoning my shirt and tucking my tie into my pocket. “That sounds perfect.”

Taking my hand, Granger led the way and I followed her closely, vowing to myself that I would never let her go.


End file.
